


Showing the World What You Got

by mshkfk



Category: College hockey RPF, Hockey RPF
Genre: BDSM, Bad Parenting, Dom/sub, Implied Child Abuse, M/M, implied verbal abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:17:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mshkfk/pseuds/mshkfk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg's got crappy parents who don't love him. Luckily, he finally found someone who just might care about him. Someone who he can rely on when he's feeling crappy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Showing the World What You Got

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. I haven't written in a hella-long time. But I missed the voices in my head.
> 
> Will and Greg are currently enrolled at Michigan State University, so I can't claim ownership. None of this is real. All made up in my head.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments, because feedback is the stuff love is made of.

Greg is not a fan of the outside world. The outside world contains a shit-ton of life he just doesn’t want to deal with—and if he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t _need_ to deal with anymore.

It’s a relief to walk in the door of the house he shares with Will and drop his bag off next to the living room coffee table. Will doesn’t even look up as Greg kneels beside his outstretched legs, bowing his head.

They’re both silent, Will scrolling through his iPad, and Greg just relaxing and compartmentalizing his day.

It takes nearly half an hour for Will to start carding his fingers through Greg’s hair, and another ten minutes before he speaks.

“Tell me.”

Greg closes his eyes and sighs. “I don’t know what happened.”

There is an incremental tightening of his fingers in Greg’s hair. He doesn’t speak, but the movement demands further explanation.

“My brother called.”

Will’s fingers loosen. “Am I going to have to beat it out of you, Gregory?”

“No, Master. He… he’s bringing my things Saturday morning.”

“Your things... from your parents?” Will stops running his fingers through his hair and hooks a finger under Greg’s chin, turning it toward him so he could meet his eyes.

“Yes.”

Will’s eyes narrow.

“Master. Yes, Master.”

He arched an eyebrow and searched his face, “Pushing, Greg?”

He wants to say no, that it had been a mental slip, but he can’t lie. Deep down, he is. He wants to be punished for his parents’ newfound disgust.

“This isn’t your fault—you know that, don’t you? The reason they’re doing this, it isn’t your fault.”

Greg can’t keep eye contact. He drops his gaze, but his head is kept turned by Will’s hold.

“You’re precious and they’re taking that from you. Strip and kneel on the bed.”

Will dismisses him and goes back to his iPad, so Greg does as he’s told. He stands gracefully and walks down the hall to their bedroom and strips out of all his clothes. He dumps them in the hamper and kneels on the bed.

He doesn’t always understand what Will sees in him. He’s a useless ginger, he isn’t good for anything other than being a stupid shit. His parents still don’t understand how he amounted to enough to get into college, and frankly, neither does Greg.

He’s nose deep in self-hating thoughts when Will walks in and he, too, strips off.

Which is odd.

Will doesn’t usually take his clothes off when he’s teaching or punishing or rewarding Greg.

Instead of voicing his confusion, Greg keeps his head bowed and eyes lowered.

“You… are beautiful.”

He stays silent at Will’s obvious exaggeration (he wouldn’t dare call it an outright lie, even though he’s pretty sure it is).

“I thought we were past this, where you didn’t believe in yourself.”

Greg doesn’t really know what to tell him. There was a point, a few months ago, where he finally felt worthy enough to kneel at Will’s feet and serve him. His parents, though, had come stumbling back into his life and had reminded him what a contemptible waste of space he is.

Will’s weight is suddenly next to him on the bed, and he doesn’t know how Will got there without him noticing, but there he is. “I know how you think about yourself. I know that you think you’re not worth my time. But not only are you good looking, you’re beautiful inside. You’re kind and loving and you submit so easily that it makes me second-guess stringing you up by your balls as often as I do. But,” he lays down and literally pulls Greg with him, so they’re spooning, “you’re perfect. You make mistakes, but you’re perfect for me. You complete me, Gregory. For lack of a better idiom, you’re my better half.”

Greg wants to believe him, he really does. Because Will Yanakeff does not lie to him. Ever. In the three years they’ve known each other, Will has never once even come close to fibbing, nevermind flat out lying to him.

Will nudges and shifts him so that they’re face to face now. “I love you,” he says and Greg’s eyes widen. They’ve been together almost two years, and Will has never said the words. Greg hasn’t either, but he doesn’t really figure his feelings matter. That Will would admit this means more to him than he can actually voice. So instead of reciprocating, he just stares up at him, his eyes getting suspiciously watery.

“I don’t tell you enough. I don’t really ever tell you at all, but I should. I love you. And I didn’t want you to leave me, but I think you’re more scared that I’ll leave you than I am, now, that you’ll go. So I’ll tell you now, and I’ll tell you every day. I love you, Greg.”

“I…,” he takes a deep breath. “I love you, too. And no, I don’t believe you right now. Twenty years of being told you’re worthless takes a long time to work past. But… I want to believe you, and that’s more than I’ve had in a long time.”

Will leans forward and kisses him, wraps his arms around Greg and holds him close. Greg likes this. They rarely have moments where they’re both this open and vulnerable with each other.

Greg has his eyes closed as he rests his head on Will’s shoulder, face buried in his neck, when Will speaks after a few minutes of silence. “How do you feel about a collar?”

He tenses, straight off the bat, and pulls back so he can look up at his Master. “You want to collar me?”

“If… it’s something you’re open to, yes. I do,” Will says, looking hopeful and serious and even a little nervous.

“Can you tell me what it would mean?” Because Greg isn’t sure. Collars seem like they’d be on slaves. He doesn’t really know what Will will expect out of him if he wears his collar.

“It’s a commitment—from both of us—that we’ll honor. Right now, it means that I love you and I want you as my submissive. I don’t want to give you up. It’s a visible sign of ownership, one that other people outside the house would recognize. Some won’t understand what it means. They might just think you have weird taste in accessories. But a few guys on the team will know. A lot of adults will know. And it means you’re as committed to me, to listening to me, to… obeying me, as I am to taking care of you.”

Greg blinks and he realizes he wants this. He wants it more than he’s wanted anything, pretty much ever, except to get out from his parents’ house.

“Yeah—um, yes. Yes, I want to wear a collar. Your collar! I want to wear it, Master. Do you have it?” he asks, eyes wide and curious.

Will is smiling, biting his lip to hold back a laugh. “No, I don’t. I mean, I do. But it’s not here in the house. I bought one once, hoping I’d find someone to give it to.” He kisses Greg again. “I have to say it again: I love you.”

“I love you, too. Will. Master. I love you.”

“My perfect, precious Gregory,” he murmurs and closes his eyes. “Rest now, dinner later.”

Greg can get behind that.


End file.
